Five Months

Hudder Budder,

Sweet baby, I'll tell you, I didn't anticipate the love I have for you to run this deep after being without you for 154 days. It has been 22 weeks of learning how to live when you stopped living. It is 2,661,120 breaths I have taken that you haven't. Although you are not with us, each day I love you so much more than the day before.

Sometimes I still feel phantom kicks. They used to make me sad but now I think of them as little hellos from you. I would sit there and smile as you'd squirm away in my belly. You loved to start going early in the morning, middle of the afternoon around 3:00 and right as I was falling asleep at night. If I wanted you to move, I just needed to eat something and there you were, like a little boxing champion. One night, your pup was resting his head on my belly and you starting squirming around right where his head was. That dog jolted and gave me a quizzical look before re-situating himself on my legs.

In my parallel universe, I wonder what we would be experiencing with you right now as you grew and your little personality continued to develop. I wonder what Halloween costume we would have chosen for you. I received a gift of little cowboy boots from your Aunt Karen and Uncle Brad. Even in the month of March, I was already thinking about October. I thought Halloween would be a good chance for you to wear them, if they fit, and Georgie pup could be your horse. I wonder what clothes you would have already outgrown and if I'd be telling you to slow down little baby, you are getting too big, too soon. I would cherish every second of every day with you.

I wish we could all be cuddled together on the couch right now, your dad and I taking turns holding you, making faces to try to elicit a squeal or a smile from you. I wish you were here to rock on the porch swing while we hand out candy this weekend and we proudly smile to dote on you when people acknowledge you and ask your name. Then, you'd make a big noise and we would all laugh. I wish we could put you in the stroller and take you to the neighborhood Halloween festival, experiencing these first time family events with you, our precious son. These moments are ones that will continue to live on in my mind as I always wonder who you would have been and what our life would have been like together, creating memories that never existed with you.

I wish you never left us.

I love you with every breath, every tear, every beat of my heart. Forever and always.

Mommy

Dreams: An Open Window to the Heart's Emotion

Looking back through some files, I found something I had written. Just this past weekend, I had a conversation with another loss mama about this song so I wanted to post.

Written on July 2, 2015

Last night I had a dream.

In my dream we were in a new house with three floors. The bottom floor was where the kitchen and living space was. The second floor was where our room was. The third floor was where the nursery was. The house was very open, few walls, very much like a loft. However, through the course of my dream, the house continued to change. Walls were appearing and making it difficult to figure out how to get from room to room. I kept trying to get upstairs to you but I couldn't find where to go to get there. I woke up in tears. I went and sat in the nursery rocker, to rock myself back to sleep, and I slept in there the remainder of the night.

I feel like as I work on healing, I'm closing off my heart to you as to try not to feel the pain because it can be so exhausting day after day. I don't know how to balance between trying to be strong and keep my emotions at bay, while also keeping it open to still feel the sadness when I need to let myself "go to that place" where I feel closest to you. It's a new battle I suppose.

It made me think of this song, Burning House. I can't listen to it without tears streaming down my face, it feels so much like my heart sometimes.

I had a dream about a burning house.
You were stuck inside,
I couldn't get you out.
I lay beside you and pulled you close,
And the two of us went up in smoke

Love isn't all that it seems.
I did you wrong.
I'll stay here with you,
Until this dream is gone.

I've been sleepwalking,
Been wondering all night.
Trying to take what's lost and broke
And make it right.
I've been sleepwalking,
Too close to the fire,
But it's the only place that I can hold you tight,
In this burning house.

In this burning house.

Pan Seared Veal Parmesan

One of Max's favorite dishes is Chicken Parm. There was only one night last week that I could cook at home and decided to make him a spruced up variation as a thank you for being so supportive during a hectic two weeks of work. The picture does not do this dish justice - blame that partially on a hungry self without patience to plate a picture-perfect dish - but trust me, the taste was divine.

I made this on Thursday, October 15 during the Wave of Light with my special Our Bud Hud candle burning as I cooked, then on the table with us as we ate. 

Ingredients
Yields two servings

• Olive oil
• Salt and pepper to taste
• 2 Veal Scallopini fillets
• 1.5 handfuls of Spinach
• 1 small Spaghetti Squash
• Your favorite sauce (we love Newman's Own)
• Red pepper flakes (optional)
• Shredded Parmesan cheese

Prep time: 8 minutes
Cook time: 10-15 minutes

Season both sides of veal with salt and pepper. Due to the thin cuts, the veal cooks very fast so this needs to be the last thing you do.

I was short on time so I didn't bake my spaghetti squash, I took the short cut and nuked it. To do this, pierce holes around the outside of the squash with a fork. Set on a plate and then cook in the microwave for 8 minutes. Half the squash lengthwise with a knife and discard the seeds. Once seeds are out, scrape the insides from top to bottom (along the horizontal axis) to get the spaghetti-like strands.

In a skillet, heat the olive oil until smoking, then add the seasoned veal. Pan sear it on both sides for 4 minutes per side. Move to a shallow baking dish, top in sauce and then set in the oven on 200 degrees to keep warm and to slightly bake the sauce on top of the meat.

Using the same skillet, add the spaghetti squash, scraping up the browned bits from the veal, then add the spinach. Allow the spinach to wilt down, then add about 3/4 cup of sauce to the pan. Fold the spaghetti squash, spinach and sauce into one another to combine.Want to turn up the heat? Go ahead, shake those flakes (red pepper that is) over top and stir it in.

Once contents of skillet are well blended, remove the veal from the oven. Plate the spaghetti squash, followed by veal then add cheese to your liking.

It's a Bittersweet Symphony, This Life

Today was probably the biggest day for my career. But in my eyes, it shouldn't have happened.

For nine years I have been doing fundraising and special events for non-profit organizations. In the first seven years of my career, it was mainly large-scale events. For the past two years I focused mainly on the fundraising aspect with a few small events sprinkled in. When I first interviewed for my job, I was blown away by the Center's mission and the scope of brain research they conducted, I wanted to be part of it. When they told me they were starting a capital campaign, I knew it was where I wanted to be to achieve the trifecta of a non-profit career: a capital campaign, a groundbreaking and a grand opening.

In January, my boss and I met with various production companies to find the right one to help us execute our Groundbreaking event. At that point, I was 4 months pregnant and knew that I wouldn't be able to really do the groundbreaking. The UT System Board of Regents were meeting in February to approve our building design and request, given the funds we had raised to date. If we were approved and could do a Groundbreaking in May, I would be able to do it but not full out at 8 months pregnant. If it got delayed to the Fall, I would be on maternity leave. I met with these companies wanting the best but knowing I wouldn't get to truly see it through.

And then everything changed.

No longer would I be on maternity leave from July to... this week. I was to come back from Maternity Leave on Monday, October 12. That made today incredibly bittersweet. Ever since I started this job I looked forward to a Groundbreaking event that I'd get to work on. Then we decided to start a family, I got pregnant and my career goals were no longer in the forefront. I was excited for the Center but my passion and desire to be a mama was FAR more important so I was okay with it. 

After Hudson passed, I took a month off work. When I came back at the end of June this Groundbreaking project was on my plate. I thought it would be good for me, I needed to keep busy and totally throw myself into something to offer a distraction. However, I had a mental block and really couldn't get myself over the hump to be all the way "there" from a cognitive standpoint. Here I am working for a center of brain health but I was doubting my own. It was hard to be in the right mindset half of the time and I was terrified that I wouldn't have myself together enough to make this event into what it needed to be, what it should be.

I didn't feel like I was "all there" until the few days leading up to it. The early, early mornings with late nights put me back in the groove again and able to focus on what I needed to (as much as I could). My team trusted me to do it, they let me lean on them when I needed to, they allowed me to delegate and took on any task asked of them. They believed in me and because of that, I could believe in myself.

While I'm so proud to be able to have done it, to have this huge career milestone, in the back of my mind, all I can think about is how I wasn't supposed to have this. I would have tried my hardest (and maybe succeeded) in talking Max into letting me stay home or at the very most try to work out a part-time arrangement. As I had entered my 8th month of pregnancy, I was very conflicted of what I would do. I've been a career woman, very goal-oriented, I crave a schedule and being in an office setting. I went into non-profit because I had a passion for certain causes and wanted to end my day feeling the reward of working for a greater good. I didn't want to give that up. But taking that reasoning, wouldn't being a mother to my son be my passion? Wouldn't that alone be the greater good? Whether it would have been feasible for us financially or not, I don't know, but I know I would have at least tried.

So I sit here. Reflecting. Feeling proud of the work accomplished with the help of an incredible team and that they are individuals that come through for you in the clutch - both on a professional level and a personal one. I am so glad I was trusted with this opportunity and was able to carry it out to the best of my ability. This gave me a chance to tap into a part of my old self again and feel that energy, that adrenaline, and the rush. It was thrilling, terrifying, engaging, and humbling all in one. I am so thankful.

However, I wish I could have come home to my son tonight instead.

Quinoa Fiesta Enchilada Bake

Just wanted to share a quick and easy weeknight meal. Make it as is, add shredded chicken or serve with marinated flank steak. I used the Skinnytaste recipe and followed it to a T. Enjoy!

My Head and My Heart

There's something about being alone in the car. During that time I talk to God. I talk to Hudson. If I am heading to meet someone that I have seen since ...before... I practice conversations so that I can appear strong and not like an emotional train wreck. I sing along to the songs on the radio that speak to me. Almost every time I am in the car alone, I cry. All the way to work, all the way home. I just do. It is the time spent alone that the conversations between my head and my heart take place.

My heart:

Aches.

Reactive.
My source of impulse until my head takes over.  

Yearns for what we don't have, it wants what it wants, yet is so scared of more pain.

My head:

Pragmatic, logical.

Quiets the heart's impulsive nature to take a step back and look at the big picture.

Still in a fog sometimes.

At the end of August, I had a positive pregnancy test. 

We were not-not trying, but we were not calculating when I was ovulating in hopes of getting pregnant again. We were just seeing what may happen. My cycle was still regulating and getting back to normal so when I was 4 days late, my heart felt like maybe I should think something of it, but my head said probably not. We were leaving the next day for our healing trip in Vancouver and I planned to eat sushi and enjoy alcoholic beverages so I wanted to make sure, just in case. I took a test the night before we left - no second line, hard negative. My head prepared my heart that I am not pregnant and would probably start while on our vacation.

When we got back, I was now 9 days late and started to think that was off. I took a pregnancy test as soon as we got back home and while it wasn't the same as the first positive test from last November, there was definitely a faint second line there. I took a picture and sent it to my doctor's nurse, she told me to come in first thing in the morning for blood work.

Heart:

Yes! I want, I want. I NEED this.
One step closer to having a baby in my arms.

Pregnant again! Thank you Lord, thank you for this promise of a new life!

Oh Hudson... Hudson.
Sadness floods in.
Is it okay to be happy about this if it wouldn't have occurred without Hudson's death?
How can I be okay with this? No, this isn't right.

Head:

If it happens, it happens.
It will soften your heart again, quiet the anger and anguish you've been fighting.
It will be hopeful. It is what you need to feel normal again.
It will help as you enter the Fall and you are faced with seeing all of your donors and vendors again, those of which you haven't seen since ...before...
Heart, it will help when they ignore what happened altogether, bring it up and potentially say the wrong thing, searching for something kind to say.
And for the holidays. Oh the holidays.
Last year at Thanksgiving you were still concealing your pregnancy from family
but already envisioned how different the following year would be with a baby in attendance, adding to the family fun.
Then there is Christmas.
You used that holiday to tell most family and friends before going public right after the new year. You bought an extra stocking to hang and decorated the house last year, already envisioning what Christmas would be like with a 5 month old.
How are you supposed to get through those holidays if you are not at least pregnant again?
Sure it will still be plenty hard but maybe that promise of new life will be helpful to you, heart, let the head win this one.
Yes, this may be helpful to you mentally and emotionally.

  

I went in for blood work the next day. They rushed it and said I should hear by end of day. At 4:00 I got a call from my nurse. She said, "well, it isn't negative, but it isn't exactly a true positive. Your levels are in the "grey area" and right between a definitive positive and negative. We see this with very early pregnancies so come back in a few days and we will do more blood work to be sure." I had hope and a gut feeling that I just knew I was pregnant again. 

Heart:

I just know it, I know I am.
I can feel it.

I'm going to be prayerful and choose faith over fear.

Head:

Let's not get our hopes up. We can't take another loss. Leave it in His hands.
It's okay if it doesn't happen right now.

Three days later, I went back, first thing in the morning. I could hardly sleep the night before. I was assured I would know the results before the end of the day, but then, that afternoon, I got the dreaded biological indicator that you are not pregnant. I called to let my nurse know. It was a different cycle than I had ever had, very painful cramping, heavy and lasting for nearly nine days. I texted with my nurse about it. She told me that it was a chemical pregnancy, otherwise known as an early miscarriage.

I was devastated. Both head and heart allowed me to be. The anger that I thought I was lifting out of came back two-fold and I spent the end of August and most of September withdrawn and pissed off at the world. Before I knew it, it was October.

This past weekend I held a baby for the first time since Hudson.

We had an annual charity event to go to. Friends came in from out of town and I was looking forward to seeing one in particular, one of my fellow loss mamas. This would be the first time to see her since our loss and since the birth of her Rainbow Baby at the end of August. The only babies/pregnant people that don't trigger a negative emotional reaction are those that I am bonded together with through the loss of a child. Seeing as they make it through to the other side gives me hope. I couldn't wait to see Melyn and though I was so nervous about the kind of reaction I may have to being in the same vicinity as a baby, I wanted to hold baby Rowan so bad.

That Sunday morning we all gathered at a house for brunch. Melyn and I were able to have our heart to heart the night before. She asked if it was okay that I be around Rowan the next day at the brunch and I told her absolutely. I asked if I could have time with him. I needed to hold a baby, a baby boy, and I needed it to be a Rainbow Baby. I saw that precious little guy and my heart nearly leapt out of my chest, just screaming to hold him. I signaled to her that it was time and we went into a quiet room where she situated him into my arms. Alone in the room, I sobbed. Feeling the weight of a life in my arms and wishing so much it was Hudson. Wondering what he would look like right now and what his little facial expressions would be.

Heart:
I miss Hudson so much.

I'm going to explode with love over the thought of the life that I don't have anymore,

and the one that will exist someday.
Please let it be soon.

Head:

I need this. I so need this.

Heart:
Can we both agree that we are ready again?

Head:
Yes.

I don't know what the future holds. This entire experience has only amplified the fact that I am not in control of anything. My mom always said that the only baby she ever planned on was the one she lost. We continue to live our lives, to navigate our grief and mourn our loss, but I know at some point new life will occur. Until then, my head and my heart will go on with their conversations. I know they'll both be ready when that day comes. 

The One in Four

"When a child loses his parent, they are called an orphan. When a spouse loses their partner, they are called a widow. When a parent loses their child, there isn't a word to describe them."
- President Ronald Reagan 

Today is October 1.

A year ago today, I went to my OB/GYN for my annual appointment. We had started TTC (trying to conceive) two months prior. I let my doctor know that we were ready for baby and she said she had no doubt that she would see me back again soon. On November 12, I called to let her know she was correct and we made an appointment for an 8 week sonogram the week of our two year wedding anniversary.

In October 1988, President Ronald Reagan declared October to be National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. A year ago, when I sat in the doctor's office waiting room, my head was filled with hopeful dreams of the picture-perfect pregnancy and the life we would build as a little family. The person I was a year ago had no idea the road she would endure and that the month of October would mean something very different to her after another trip around the sun. That person sitting here today, typing at the computer, does painfully know. This October, I stand with others battling loss as the one in four women that will experience pregnancy or infant loss. I then become another statistic as the 5% that lost their baby in the third trimester. From there I am in the 2% that lost their child due to a cord accident. These are not just numbers and statistics anymore, it is me.

This is my plea:
Be extra kind. Be more aware. If you know someone that has lost their child to miscarriage, stillbirth, SIDS, birth defects or disease, love them a little harder this month. Ask them about their baby, they WANT to remember them and for others to as well. We may cry in front of you and that is okay. Sometimes the memories do that, our hearts are still so raw because the one we love is gone, but behind the tears is gratefulness that we get to say their name out loud and that you did too. You acknowledged their life, no matter how brief it may have been, it was very much a life. It was our child.

While the whole month is dedicated to this awareness, October 15 is the designated day to honor it. On that day, the Wave of Light movement takes place at 7 PM where anyone around the world is invited to light a candle and let it burn for one hour. It is a vigil that can be done on your own and shared via social media to spread awareness and advocate for those who have experienced this heartbreak and to honor these babies.

This month, in everything I do, I seek to honor our son, Hudson John Schlieve.

I will stand with the other One in Four as we remember the baby/babies who await us in Heaven. We will never forget the joy upon learning that we had created them, nor the intense sorrow that we felt when they were gone. Some of these women were already mothers, looking forward to adding to their family. Some of them were entering parenthood for the first time. Some have gone on to have their precious rainbow baby, receiving that atonement and promise of new life. Some are still waiting and searching for hope. One thing is always true, no matter how many more babies there are or how much time has passed, our hearts never stop hurting for the one who is gone.

Every mother counts.

Every father counts.

Every life counts.